


Expectations of Promises

by Promiscuous_Pidge



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, M/M, Ten Years Later, additional tags I can't think of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 15:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12062088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Promiscuous_Pidge/pseuds/Promiscuous_Pidge
Summary: It's been ten years since he's been gone, and Prompto's learned to get by alone. That is, until he comes back.





	Expectations of Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s my entry for day one of @promptisfanweek! Sorry if it’s a little…sad? ish?  
> Day 1: Ten Years Later

The world was dark. It was cold, it was plagued with the worst creatures imaginable, and Prompto couldn’t picture it as anything else anymore.

There wasn’t a lot of time to think about the past during those ten years. People needed saving, havens needed upkeeping, and his mind needed distracting. It hurt to sit down and remember. You can’t think about the past if it hinders the future.

And yet it was an impossible task for Prompto to keep his mind off of him for too long. Soon after the Starscourge had closed its grip on the world, he’d felt a chill begin to slowly creep its way through his body. It wasn’t easy to shake out. In the rare times where he was someplace well-heated and dropped his guard, he thought back to before. He thought of him.

And it still hurt, but it hurt a little less.

Prompto began to associate warmth with memories together, of joy and carefree times, and the sunshine. So he was his smiling sun, only visible through closed eyes in a heated room.

As he grew older, Prompto found that the cold was more prevalent than the warmth. They didn’t coexist for him, and he accepted that. Maybe he was unintentionally shutting out any trace of comfort. Maybe the memories were becoming too distant to have any relevance or effect in his life. Whatever the case, he stopped trying to rid the empty feeling from his bones.

It was around Hammerhead during one of his hunting sprees that Prompto met up with Ignis and Gladio. Firing bullets to slay daemons was an increasing pastime of his, and it was during a particularly nasty quarrel that Gladio had come running out of nowhere to finish off the beast and save his ass for not the first time.

They still got along fine, the three of them. Ignis and Gladio spent more time together than Prompto did, though they did occasionally meet up for old time’s sake or to help out Cindy. In times like those, their spirits were temporarily lifted, even if they all felt the hole etched into the picture.

“Hey, Iggy,” Prompto greeted once the adrenaline died down. “Still any good at cooking?” The joke was met with a laugh from Gladio.

Ignis crossed his arms. “To think you’d even suggest otherwise insults me,” he retorted. He knew he couldn’t even see him, and yet Prompto felt Ignis’ gaze boring into his skull.

“I can vouch for that; he’s still the best cook I know,” Gladio spoke up. “Maybe we should all stay here for a bit and eat together.”

Prompto knew he needed to get out of his sulking routine. And _ damn _ , he missed Ignis’ cooking. The enthusiastic side of him took over, and he yelled, “Hell yeah!” before he knew it.

* * *

 

It was hot.

Prompto set aside his plate **—** the food really was as delicious as he remembered **—** and tugged at his shirt.

“C'mon, man, admit you’re sick,” Gladio said, kicking back with his hands behind his head with a disposition conveying not a care in the world.

He frowned. “I’m _ serious _ ,” he argued. “Nobody notices that the temperature is going up all of a sudden?”

Gladio eyed him. “Don’t think so. It’s been kinda mild for a while.” He cracked a smile. “Been running around too much, thinking you’re twenty again?”

Prompto crossed his arms. “ _ No _ ,” he said. He was almost sure his abilities had slightly improved from back then, if anything, but he wasn’t up for arguing it. “It just feels warmer, okay?”

Just as Gladio opened his mouth to say something else, Ignis returned from outside. They both turned to see him approaching slowly, a sort of shock on his face.

“You good, Iggy?” Gladio asked.

The trance broke. Ignis breathed a small laugh, barely audible, but still there. “It seems we’re expecting a visitor soon.”

* * *

 

Prompto could feel his heart hammering in his hears. He was alive. He was coming back. He was coming  _ here _ .

The others shared in his nervous anticipation, though Prompto was fairly sure he made up most of the “nervous” in the group. He was pacing along the recently-cleaned floor, looking up every few moments in hopes of seeing the lights on Talcott’s truck and continuing when he came up empty.

“Prompto, he’s been gone for ten years. You can wait another five minutes,” Ignis scolded. “You’re giving me a headache with all that pacing.”

“Nope, too restless.” He hadn’t felt this much true energy in  _ years. _

Then he saw it, and he stopped. The other two stood up beside him in silence, watching as the gate closed behind the truck. They made their way collectively outside, and Prompto felt a new wave of scattered emotions. It was weird, but welcome.

The door to the truck swung open, and filthy boots hit the ground with a thud. Standing before them was Noctis, a scruffy-looking man who was alive and real. Prompto felt a smile stretch across his face. It had been way too long.

After a round of greetings and exchanging welcomes, the newly-reformed group made their way back inside.

Noctis looked to be taking it all in. His eyes never stayed focused on one place, flitting from people to the room itself to the world beyond the window. But whenever his eyes caught Prompto’s, he turned away.

It didn’t sting as much as he would have imagined. If anything, it reminded him somewhat of their old school days, before they officially became friends. It hadn’t mattered if he was in the background if Noctis was the subject of the picture during those times. He could live with that again.

Prompto sat on the floor, trying his best to put up a neutral front. He was a bit surprised when Noctis plopped down beside him, groaning.

“I feel like I haven’t moved in ten years,” he joked, offering Prompto a benign smile that made his head spin.

“Maybe I can help you figure out why,” Prompto replied, returning the ghost of a smile and leaning back against the wall.

Noctis followed suit. “So, what are we doing over here on the floor?”

“Oh, you missed it,” Prompto explained. “Sitting on the floor is kinda my thing now.” He was messing around with him. Hadn’t they done that back then?

They both shared a small laugh, but it wasn’t enough to dispel the obvious unspoken awkwardness.

Ten years Prompto had wondered what life could be like with Noctis in it again. The things they could do, the way the world could be. All the questions and scenarios he’d repressed and forgotten from the early years sprang up in his mind, but they felt too out of place now. He couldn’t get himself to speak a word.

Thankfully, Noctis kept the conversation going for him. “So,” he began, “what’s with that hair on your chin?”

Prompto rolled his eyes with a little laugh. “As if you’re one to talk. You look like an old man.”

“You callin’ me old?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Noctis playfully landed a punch on his shoulder, which he had to consciously not shy away from.

In the silence that followed, Noctis stared at Prompto. He didn’t know if it was from age or the gravity of his situation, but Noctis’ eyes had a more focused intensity that Prompto had never seen before. It was mesmerizing.

“Prompto,” he said. “Can we talk somewhere?” His voice was soft, a quiet intended for only him to hear. “I have some…things to ask you.”

He didn’t respond at first. It dawned on him that he hadn’t fully accepted Noctis’ presence there until he asked something of him, like some part of his brain told him that he was still an illusion. And he couldn’t exactly tell the real him no, so he nodded.

Noctis stood up and offered his hand to help Prompto up, but he got up on his own and led Noctis outside and around back. He stopped at the fence, a little out of reach from the nearest light source. Nobody ever really ventured back there, so Prompto was sure they wouldn’t be interrupted.

Prompto nodded to him. “It really is good to see you, again,” he said sincerely. Despite the way he was acting, he meant it.

“How are you holding up?” Noctis asked. A look of concern was all Prompto could see on his face, complete with his sad eyes. He was definitely real.

But he couldn’t upset him with talking about how he’d spent those years doing all he could to forget him. Not that it would make a difference, but he knew that Noctis needed some sort of peace right now, so he smiled. “Noct,  _ I’m _ fine. I’m supposed to be asking  _ you _ how you are.”

Noctis sighed, taking his hand in his, but his touch felt foreign. “No, you’re not. I made a promise to you, before….” He hesitated. “It probably doesn’t feel like yesterday to you, but it does for me.”

Prompto was somewhat shocked. What was he talking about?

Not wanting to upset him, Prompto only frowned. “Well, it’s been a little more than a couple of weeks, buddy,” he said, trying to discreetly remove his hand from Noctis’ grasp. But his fingers tightened and held firm, curled around his arm just under his wristband, and he didn’t have the heart to let go anymore.

“I told you that we’d stay together after all this is over,” Noctis said quietly. “I promised.”

Through his longer hair and facial scruff, Prompto could see the old Noctis. He was still young and troubled with nightmares. Prompto had been his shoulder to cry on, and Noctis had been his. Their connection hadn’t weakened in Noctis’ mind, but Prompto couldn’t tell how he felt anymore.

With a sigh, Prompto allowed himself to look into Noctis’ eyes. “It’s been a long time,” he stated. He’d said that a lot, he realized. “It’s fine that you can’t keep your promise if it’s fine that I can’t remember it.”

“You don’t?”

The only thing he was certain of was that they’d had a serious talk a long time ago. Over the years he’d tried to remember it, but he must have intentionally lost the memory during those first few. So he shook his head.

Noctis nodded, slumping back against the fence. He still slouched, Prompto noted, letting a small laugh slip through.

“What’s funny?” Noctis asked with a confused and slightly annoyed expression.

“Sorry,” Prompto apologized, “it’s just that I’m still not used to seeing Noctis standing right in front of me. You were only in my head until today.”

Soon after, Noctis shook his head. “I bet you think I’m not real or something.”

Damn, he hit the nail right on the head.

He hummed in thought, moving around to examine Noctis. Same clothes, new facial scruff, less wild hair and more angular features. He looked more like a grown man now, but Prompto knew it was him. “I’m coming to terms with it,” he assured. “And I don’t know if you want to hear this or not, but…you look a lot like your dad.”

Noctis bit his lip, and Prompto wondered if he’d crossed a line. “Could be a lot worse.” His voice held a slight tremor as he spoke. But he smiled. “Thanks,” he finished.

“Only telling the truth.”

They stood there, side by side, neither of them saying anything for a few minutes. Prompto was used to the silence, but Noctis looked uncomfortable. After all, Prompto used to fill in for the quiet any chance he could.

Prompto could tell that their conversation wasn’t going anywhere. He wanted to say something, anything, that could have Noctis leave with a better impression of him, but everything he thought of would only make it worse. He wanted to kick himself for acting the way he had since his disappearance, not allowing him inside his head and creating a different image of Noctis in his mind. The real one was right in front of him, and he was nothing like in his mind. That Noctis was nothing but fun and love and warmth, but this one was vulnerable and hurting. This one was his.

He decided to get over himself and tell Noctis what he wanted to say. Taking a deep breath, he stood up and stepped into Noctis’ full line of vision. “Noctis, these past ten years have been shit. I don’t know how much you know, but I’ve been alone for a long time.” He had his full attention; no turning back. “I spent all that time doing whatever I could to keep busy and not think of you, but  _ gods _ it was hard not to think of you. I’m always cold, and I can’t tell if it’s real cold or isolation cold. But when I finally let you into my mind, it was a little bit warmer.

"With that being said, I think I almost convinced myself that what we had never happened.”

At that, Noctis looked surprised, quickly followed by a downcast expression. “So it’s nothing, anymore?” he asked.

That’s not exactly what he meant. “No, it’s not nothing,” Prompto replied, rubbing the side of his face. “I think what I’m trying to say is that I don’t know how to feel around you, anymore. It’s almost like ten years put too much distance between the old me and” **—** he gestured to his disheveled self **—** “this one.” He could only hope he was making some sense, because Noctis didn’t offer up and reactions.

They had been gone for a while by that time. Prompto was worried that everyone  _ else _ would get worried, and he was about to suggest heading back when Noctis spoke.

“So what do we do about it?” he asked calmly.

Prompto wanted to pretend he couldn’t see the tears that brimmed in Noctis’ eyes. He didn’t want to admit that it still squeezed his heart until he couldn’t breathe to know he caused them.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

He leaned heavily against the fence once more. Maybe it was habit, or perhaps he wanted to earn back some of the comfort that came with it, but Prompto found himself reaching for Noctis’ hand. It was warm.

Noctis held onto him loosely, rubbing his thumb along Prompto’s knuckles. He occasionally glanced at Prompto, who did his best to put on a soft expression. It was a welcome moment when the two finally shared a smile.

“Hey, Noct?”

“Hm?”

“I think we could try starting over,” Prompto suggested. “Not  _ way _ , way over. I mean loving each other now, and not taking it the same way as back then. Because, c'mon, it’s never gonna be like that again.”

Noctis had a look that said he was mulling it over. After a few moments, Prompto felt him squeeze his hand. “I’d like that.” With the same hand, he pulled Prompto closer and pressed his lips to his cheek. The hairs on his face poked and tickled his skin, and he had to cover his mouth to keep from giggling at it. “Is it the beard?” he asked.

“Yup,” Prompto replied. His face felt warmer where he’d been kissed.

“Alright, I’ll shave it off if you shave yours.”

Prompto laughed. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

Noctis poked at the scruff on his chin. “Terrible.” Truth be told, he just never found the time to take it off and ended up growing attached to it.

“Only if we’re both doing it, okay?” Prompto confirmed.

“Deal.”

They laughed at the agreement. Prompto felt a lightness in his chest he was grateful to have back. All of a sudden, he had hope that the two of them would end up okay.

He felt Noctis’ hand on his waist, his eyes a silent request to get closer.

And Prompto decided, to hell with it all. He threw his arms around Noctis’ shoulders, bringing him into a crushing hug. By the Astrals, he’d missed him so much.

It had been longer than Prompto could remember since he’d properly hugged someone. The safety he felt being held by his best friend was incomparable, like all of the bad things around them were only a myth. He could break down and find him right there, ready to hold him until he could get up again. Which is what he did.

When Prompto felt the burning in the back of his eyes and felt the wetness start to coat his face, he couldn’t believe that he was crying. In every scenario he’d imagined of seeing Noctis again, he didn’t cry. He was supposed to be stronger than that, now.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Prom,” Noctis muttered into his ear.

Prompto breathed a shaky sigh. “It’s not your fault, Noct. We’re both here now.” Saying it gave him an extra kick of heartfelt tears, and he was crying into Noctis’ shoulder before he could stop.

All of his old emotions were flooding back to him. He thought they must look ridiculous, two men hiding behind a building and sobbing into each other’s arms, but it was fine with him. They both needed it.

They didn’t get their quiet for much longer. Prompto could hear Gladio’s voice coming from the garage, asking about Noctis’ whereabouts. He let go, taking a small step back and absently wiping his tears with a hand. “You should probably go,” he reasoned.

Noctis pushed back his hair with a sigh. “Probably.”

With a small chuckle, Prompto reached out and rubbed away Noctis’ tears with a thumb. “At least try to look presentable.”

“Not so sure I can pull that one off,” Noctis replied, smiling at Prompto’s touch. “Do that all you want, but I still look like a mess.”

“Yeah, you kinda do,” Prompto admitted. “But we’re still happy to see you, even if we’re all making fun of you for it.”

Noctis sighed. “Thanks. I’m glad to see you, too.” He didn’t know if he was referring to him or the group, but Noctis sounded sincere all the same. “Spare me a kiss before we go?” he asked.

Prompto nodded and soon felt Noctis’ hands on the sides of his face as he brought him into a tender kiss. He smiled into Noctis’ lips; it still felt a little odd, but he was looking forward to hopefully getting used to it again.

They broke for air when Gladio’s voice got louder. “Let’s go back,” Noctis said.

“Don’t wanna make them think you disappeared again,” Prompto joked.

With a shake of his head, Noctis released his hold on Prompto and took a few steps away, but stopped short. “Should we say anything else first?”

Of course, there were still plenty of things to say. About them, about their journey, and a billion other things. But only one really needed to be spoken then.

“Don’t make me any more promises.” That was all he needed.

Noctis slowly turned his head away, taking a few moments to reply. “If that’s what you want. Alright.” He walked away slowly, Prompto trailing several steps behind.

Deep down, they both knew that anything could happen, and a promise would only get in the way. Prompto would love for things to work out for him and Noctis, but he knew what they were about to face.  If anything were to happen, he didn’t want either of them being left alone with an impossible burden.

But Prompto was grateful they’d had that talk. As they rejoined the others, he noticed the absence of the usual chill in his core. A part of him wanted to believe that it was because of his encounter with Noctis, and he allowed himself to believe that’s what it was, at least for the time being.

He was still in love, but Prompto couldn’t make a commitment just yet. Until they were ready, he was satisfied knowing that he could keep warm.


End file.
